


Bad Influence

by Im_not_a_mouse



Category: South Park
Genre: Cussing, M/M, Nothing really happens but it's nice, Peer Pressure, Pranks, They set a body on fire because its funny, unimportant character death, y'know typical fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 18:35:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_not_a_mouse/pseuds/Im_not_a_mouse
Summary: Butters is a follower, he always will be





	Bad Influence

The sun was barely peeking through the clouds in the early afternoon. The sky threatened rain or snow, even sleet with how the weather was acting, but the somewhat harsh mountain air was kept at bay by the young blond's chipper humming as he colored a picture of a kitten at his bedroom desk. He smiled warmly at the colors and pinned the finished picture on the cork board along with the others. 

He wasn't able to admire his work for long until his bedroom door was swung open with enough force to nearly rip it off the hinges. He quickly caught the doorknob before it got a chance to punch a hole in the wall. 

 

 “Butters! I need you to do something!” the new arrival barked.

 

 “Oh, well heya Eric!” the blond greeted his friend- if you could even call him that- with a jovial hug. The huskier boy scoffed in disgust, pushing the smaller boy off. 

 

 “I don't need your fagginess today, dumbass,” he brushed off the sleeves of his cherry red coat and stuffed his gloved hands into his pockets. “I just need you to wear your nicest clothes and meet me at that place by the chapel at exactly 1:30,”

 

 “Like my suit? What for?” 

 

 “I'm not gonna explain to you, I'll just be wasting my breath much worse you'll end up screwing everything up,” he looked over the corkboard with a critical eye, casting silent judgment he'd gladly express outloud if he wasn't in a hurry. “Just be there or I'll kick your ass,” he shut the door slightly harder than needed making the blond wince. 

 

Whatever his peer was planning, it made his stomach churn with uneasiness. It would normally be something dangerous or illegal, much worse something that would get him in trouble with his parents. He tried to accept the loss of his freedom from the next few weeks or even month. His dad was always unpredictable that way. 

 

He carefully opened his closet and dug to the back to find the suit he wore to his great aunt's funeral neatly hung up. He knew he'd get in all sorts of grounded if he got so much as a scuff mark on this suit so he hoped whatever Eric was plotting was worth it. Most of the times it wasn't really to himself, just something that would make the brunet happy. It didn't really matter anyways, a happy Eric was always better than one that was mad at him. 

 

He found himself at the corner of the street in his nicest suit, his platinum hair combed gingerly down although his cowlick still sprung up like daisies. He looked up and down the sidewalk in both directions before looking at his watch. 1:43. He shifted nervously as he started to wonder if this was all a set up.

He was proven wrong by a figure jogging up to him. His friend was clothed in a similar dark blue suit with his gingerbread colored hair brushed neatly. This only raised more questions.

 

 “You're late,” the blond pointed out as the brunet stopped at the spot. 

 

 “No, you're early,” he scowled as he tried to catch his breath. 

 

 “But wait, you said-” 

 

 “Enough of that! We have work to do!” he slings his backpack over his shoulder and motions Butters to follow. 

 

At the entrance of the building was a middle aged woman in a formal dress and a clipboard in her hand. Eric quickly grabbed the boy's hand as she looked the two over. 

 

 “Ah yes, this way please,” she nodded solemnly and ushered the boys inside. 

 

The building was filled with similarly dressed people visiting quietly. It looked like a fancy party but the atmosphere was kinda melancholy, like a heavy fog was resting on everyone's shoulders. In the back of the room was a long wooden box decorated with various flowers. 

 

 “Is this is a funeral?!” the blond demanded in a harsh whisper. 

 

The slightly taller boy gave his signature sneer. “Why yes, this is a funeral,”

 

 “Who died? Someone we knew?!” he scanned the crowd to try to recognize anyone. 

 

 “Nah, just some random guy,” he scoffed. “I think he was the mailman by the north side of town,”

 

 “Then why are we here?” 

 

 “Just be quiet and let me lead,” 

 

With those words, he pulled the blond into the crowd, bumping into quite a few people leaving Butters to throw out a few apologies as they dashed to the back of the building. He was shoved into the bathroom as the light switch was flipped on and the door was locked. 

 

 “This-” Eric announced as he took off his backpack and opened the pocket. “-is what we'll be doing,” He pulled out a box of matches and a small jug of gasoline. 

 

 “Are we going to set the building on fire?!” he gasped. Eric was quick to clamp a hand over the blond's mouth before he alerted anyone. 

 

After a few seconds of silence he sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, we're not setting the building on fire,” he said in a frustrated mutter. “We're just going to set the body on fire,” 

 

 “Why?” 

 

 “Because it'd be fucking hilarious, now listen!” he shoved the bag in the smaller’s hands. “I'll distract them, you'll douse the guy in gas and light him up!”

 

 “O-oh jeez Eric, I dunno about that…” he rubbed his knuckles together nervously.

 

 “Don't be a pussy, Butters,” he scoffs as he pushes him out the door. “I'll distract them,”

 

Eric did as he said, he gathered everyone attention and started talking about the deceased like he had known him and was great friends with him. Butters watched in awe as he was able to lie so thoroughly and believable, he might be a great actor some day if he wanted. He was so fascinated by the older's performance he forgot what he was supposed to be doing until he received an icy glare quick enough to snap the blond out of his daydream and back to the task at hand. Taking the gasoline bottle in hand, he quickly doused the inside of the coffin, being sure not to look at the person inside for too long. The air quickly was infused with the powerful odor that smelled like a truck stop.

 

 “I'm so sorry about this Mister,” he whispered to the coffin, lighting a match. He stepped back and tossed the small stick in, immediately setting ablaze the wooden casket. The whole room of people turned with faces of horror, shock and anger as many ran to try to put the fire out. There were a few screams and orders being flung to “get some water” before someone grabbed a nearby punch bowl and doused the flames. Behind the chaos was the loud guffaw that was Eric Cartman fully enjoying his sadistic masterpiece. Butters couldn't see how it was funny, especially now that everyone had their eyes on him with enough anger to burn him. 

He let out a little squeak of terror before dropping everything and making a beeline to the doors, two dozen adults yelling some not nice things on his way out. He didn't bother waiting for Eric, he figured he wouldn't even be seen as an accomplice anyways. 

 

He ran the whole way home, through the fresh snow that had accumulated from this morning's storm. He felt guilty with himself, but at least he hadn't gotten into trouble. It's not like those people recognized who he was right? With a swift moment, he opened his front door and slipped inside no longer bothered by the chilly wind. He sighed softly. 

 

 “And what do you think you're doing, young man?” the judging voice of his father boomed.

 

 “A-ah! I didn't do anythin'!” Butters held his hands up defensively. 

 

 “Honestly, have you no shame? Playing outside in your only suit, how do you think Aunt Clare would feel?” his dad shook his head in disappointment. “March straight up to your room mister, you're grounded!”

 

He opened his mouth to correct him, but decided against it. Whatever punishment for this should at least be more mild than setting the dead body of a mailman on fire anyways.

"Y-yes sir..." 

He did as he was told, going up to his room and quickly changing back into his teal shirt and pants before sitting quietly on his bed to read. It wasn't much longer before there was a rhythmic tapping on his window that made him jump. Peeking over he saw something big and red behind the frosted glass.

 

 “Open up! It's freezing out here!”

 

Butters slid open the pane just long enough to let the visitor in without letting in too much of the cold. 

 

 “What are you doing over here?” he asked. “If you wanted my help again you'll have to wait because I'm grounded,”

 

 “I don't need any of your stupid help, dumbass,” Eric thoroughly shook off the snow from his jacket onto the floor. “I just came to say you did a good job, although I wished it would have burned for a little while longer, that asshole never delivered my package,”

 

 “W-wait… I did a good job? Are you thanking me?” 

 

 “No, gaywad,” he scoffs. “And even if I did it wouldn't mean anything,” he sits on the bed, kicking his shoes off. “And I'm not going out in that freezing cold any time soon so get comfortable,”

 

 “Sure thing,” Butters smiles at the thought of having a little bit of company. “Thanks, Eric,”

"Yeah sure whatever," the brunet pulled out his cellphone and lied back on the bed, thoroughly comfortable and sitting awfully close. 

Butters pulled his book closer to his face to hide his reddening cheeks, deciding not to point this out to spook his friend. It didn't matter anyways, he did what he was told and his friend thanked him for it, that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna come out and say it, I live for this ship. 
> 
> I have got me a lot of fic ideas fuhuhuhuhuhuhu


End file.
